آنچه عشق می خوانند نوعی تبعید است.

“I began playing with the cries, a little in the same way as I had played with t…”

“It was a strange room, the door hanging off its hinges, and yet a telephone. Bu…”

“Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.”

“Was I asleep? Had I slept?”